


The Map That Leads to You

by inbrightestday (Weep_Not_For_Roads_Untraveled), Weep_Not_For_Roads_Untraveled



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Marble Hornets
Genre: M/M, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weep_Not_For_Roads_Untraveled/pseuds/inbrightestday, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weep_Not_For_Roads_Untraveled/pseuds/Weep_Not_For_Roads_Untraveled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masky is emotionally constipated, Toby goes on impromptu winter break, Slender is suspicious and Hoodie is not helping.</p><p>Or, in which Masky remembers Toby was his childhood companion, and Toby is determined to find his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Miss The Taste Of A Sweeter Life

**Author's Note:**

> There is a despicable lack of Ticci Toby fanfics. I felt the need to remedy this.
> 
> Also, I can't be the only one who ships Toby and Tim, right?  
> (probably) Anyway, unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine. First work, be kind. I am literally making this up as I go- everything is liable to change. Suggestions would be more than welcome. Title taken from and heavily inspired by Maps - Maroon 5
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a stakeout, Masky remembers something important. He may or may not freak out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this chapter was so rushed. I appreciate all criticism.  
> Thanks for reading!

Masky remembers during a stateout, actually, which was the worst possible thing that could happen.  
Toby was humming some obnoxious song, tapping along with his fingers on the table, his voice rising in pitch every time his neck would spasm.

After a few minutes of this, Masky had tried whacking him on the back of the head, just to get the message across, but Toby remained unaffected, and finally Tim turned to the proxy, a snarl dying in his throat as he recalled a boy, suspiciously familiar.  
-  
Masky remembers a mess of brown hair, flashing gray eyes, lit by silent laughter, a pale, skinny face. He remembers boney hands, fingers decorated by odd wounds- teeth marks, perhaps. 

He remembers a bridge, something so old from his past he thinks it's probably a crumbling, concrete mess, forgotten in disrepair.  
Tim could count on one hand the number of times he had been prepared to end it- some of them he could not even recall. This particular time- when he was about seven (the universe seemed to hate him, before he had done anything to reserve this hatred. Alcoholics for parents were just the start.) he was testing the waters, teetering back and forth on the edge, steeling his courage. 

Finally, all in a release of breath, he fell. Gravity pulled his down as he surrendered control, imagining his outstreched arms morphing into birds wings, feathers flexing with the wind as it pulled him up, carrying him away-

Eyes snapped open as he was pulled, visciously, away. He can almost feel the pain lacing up his back. It had been intense then, for a kid. He remembers- embarrassed, crying out and being helped to his feet by a boy, younger than him, Tim could tell, maybe five years old, shuffling about in a jacket too large for his frame. Large, warm gray eyes peered at him, innocent and non-judgemental, but concerned.

"You... okay?" He said, just barely above a whisper. Tim's younger self thought he must know what death is, too. That's why he was so quiet.

"No." Tim had answered truthfully. He wasn't, never would, possibly. His bruises hurt- a throb pulsed on his arms, stomach- he hope his makeshift band-aid didn't fall off his leg. Blood scared him. His own blood.  
The boy blinked owlishly at his reply, surprised. The boy paused- it was a while before his juvenile brain put together something reasonable to say. Tim shifted, uncomfortable, under his gaze.

"Come with me." The boy said, and Tim strained to hear it. The boy cleared his throat. "If you want to. We can play." 

The eldest allowed a small smile to cross his solemn face, one which the boy mirrored brilliantly. Tim nodded, just after someone called out for the boy. Toby, they shouted, a woman and a girl, maybe eleven jogged into view.  
"Toby," the boy said, confidently, speaking loud and with enthusiasm, unlike before.

"Tim," He had said, all prior thoughts of falling off the bridge and flying away, to a safe place disregarded.  
After that, he went with them- His family let him stay for food, drinks, let them pkay in the backyard.  
-

"-a picture, it'll last longer."

When Tim's senses began to function again, he realized he was but inches from Toby's face.  
Jerking backwards, nearly falling into the vase, he stumbled away. The brunet had nowhere to go, hidden behind the table, against the wall, inbetween the two proxies-  
Masky had managed to stutter through the night, and in the end Hoodie finished the job, clean and effective as usual, minimal blood.  
When they returned to the mansion, Masky retreated to his room right away and leaned against his door in the safety of his room, running a gloved hand through his matted hair.

Toby- Toby, was his childhood friend.  
But Toby lost his memory.


	2. I Miss The Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim talks to Toby about his discovery. He doesn't get very far.

Tim had stayed in his room, pacing and confused during dinner and the tidying up afterward, which he felt guilty for not helping out, but he was too focused on the memories flooding his brain and trying to figure out the million-dollar question: what the hell.

After he had his fill of thinking and brooding, he finally forced himself to lay down. He was ashamed Slender could not trust him enough to allow him his memories of his fellow proxy- What would he have done, run away with him?  
After much tossing, turning and tustling with his sheets, he glowered at his digital clock- 4:12 AM. He considered the sleeping pills in his tableside drawer, briefly.  
Disregarding the drugs, he managed to stand up, blankets spilling off the bed onto the floor.  
Tim left his small, conservative room and padded down the hall to steps, finding his way down the black halls with experienced ease. Upon rounding the corner into the living room, he found the TV on, illuminating the otherwise dark room and set on a low volume. A single person occupied the middle of the couch, his matt of brown hair barely visible over the back of the couch.

Hopes of solving his issues alone, in silence, preferably forgotten, he circled the couch, socks ghosting over the chilled wooden floors and took a seat furthest from the other resident.

Toby startled, tensing and straightening from his lax posture, his arms flying to grope the nearby furniture.  
Slowly, he rigidly reclined, tight as a spring. Tim resisted a smirk at the fact he forgot his facial gear.  
All things considered, he had a handsome face, even with the scars marring his mouth. Tim's were worse.  
"Nothing to be ashamed of." Tim says, low and barely audible. Toby seems to relax, even minutely at that.

They fell into a silence- the tension slowly leeks out of Toby's frame, leaving him in the same limp position Tim found him in. He looked /exhausted/, if the dark circles were anything to go by.

"How much do you remember?" Tim asks finally, bolstered by temporary courage, turning to look at his companion. Toby had covered the right side of his face, the part which was damaged, with a gloved hand, elbow jabbing into the couch cushions behind him.  
The brunet craned his head slightly to look at him, gray eyes irritated and icy, as if he though Tim was mocking him. "Nothing before I was saved from the fire ring by Slendy."

"He doesn't like being called that." And if that wasn't the most petulant, childish thing he has ever said, he doesn't know what.

Toby twisted toward him again simply with an arched eyebrow. "Cry me a river."

Another silence. 

"Are you certain."

This time, the other proxy doesn't even spare him a glance. "Yes, I am certain." He bites, obviously uncomfortable with the topic.

Toby twitches violetly, neck jerking to the right with a crack, and he continues to watch Netflix, fidgeting.

"I recall-"

"I don't remember anything, okay douchenozzle?" Toby snarls, half rising from the couch, bristling. Tim held his gaze, impassive.  
"I was going to say I remembered something important, earlier about my childhood-"

"Woop-de-fuckin'-do." 

"-that includes you."

Toby eyes him suspiciously, settling back into his seat, angled toward the brunet. He points at Tim, squinting. "You're screwing with me."

"I am not. I remembered- you were- /we/ were good friends, as children. I believe Slenderman altered my memory-"

"Because he thought we were going to fuck up the whole dynamic here, or what? I don't believe it." Toby says with finality.

"... I think so. It is a possibility we would not be able to preform our tasks as efficiently, so Slender fixed the problem."

Toby mumbled something under his breath, and was quiet. "What does it matter to me? I can't remember shit anyway."

"I-" Tim began to speak, but found he had no reply. 

They both returned their attention to the program, which Tim finally noticed was playing Breaking Bad.  
Slender did not allow them to watch media aside from news outlets, but Masky couldn't count one pasta who hadn't watched Netflix anyway.

"I know we are not on the best of terms," Tim begins, after formulating an answer. "We bump heads often. We can surely get along now, if we have in the past. I would like to-"

A weigh dropped on Tim's shoulder, hair tickling his face. He swiveled to find Toby's eyes closed, his head resting on his shoulder, breathing in deep breaths. 

A buzzing feeling warmed Tim's chest, an emotion he wasn't prepared to look too closely at as he returned his attention to the TV, smiling ever-so-slightly.


	3. I'm Searching For A Song Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laughs filler chapter what are you talking about
> 
> I'm so sorry I haven't updated. I've been drawing blanks for this fanfic. I read over my writing and I'm just like, jesus, did I really write this? OOC much?  
> im sorry i tried my best i promised an extra bog chapter soon
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, thank youfor reading, and criticisim is much appreciated!
> 
> Enjoy OOC as fuck characters!

Masky did take Toby's pride into consideration, and left him on the couch. Tim figured that he would flip his lid after realizing he was carried to bed- upstairs- like some sort of princess, and no one, much less Masky were prepared for the following tantrum, so he retired to his own room.  
Not before dropping ablanket on the boy. Pride be damned, he was so pale. He felt like an ice cube.

Tim paused in the doorway, hand gripping the wall. When did he start caring so much? He never noticed these thing before- Or atleast, he did with annoyance. Not concern. Why was he worried for him? His memories didn't change how Toby acted now. Maybe he was a cute kid, but now, he had grown some sort of insufferable, vulgar, snarky personality no one could get past. He was lucky to have Sally- the girl never gave up on him. Even when he inevitably said something biting, she would laugh it off and stick by his side. Even Clockwork got feed up with his bullshit.  
There was no reason for Masky to be so attached.

Tim sighed and forced himself to leave, and put the entire suituation out of his mind the rest of the night. He needed some peace, quiet.  
Creeping through the house, as to not awaken anyone (some of them had /scary/ levels of hearing. It should habe been expected, but jesus.) and slipped out of the house. Although the forest didn't scare him anymore, it's unsettling air had no effect on him, he knew Slender wandered the woods, and didn't plan on pissing him off tonight. Masky understood he was replacable. There was a reason people didn't leave the woods after entering.

He padded out onto the porch, breathing in the night air and staring at the silhouettes of trees. Not a star in the sky. Tim sighed, and seemed to lose track of time.  
"Tim?" Masky jerked, salvaged his dignity and slowly turned. Eyeless Jack stood there, fixing him with his blank, black stare. Tim nodded towards him and returned his attention to the sky. He noticed the eyeless mans scalpel glinting in his hand, not so subtlely held at his side, freshly sharpened.

"You should wait." Tim said stiffly. "After sun up. Slender doesn't appreciate vistors after dark. Even us."  
  
His comment was met with silence, as he expected. Eyeless Jack glided past him without a sound, down the steps, and stopped. Masky would have missed the nod he gave if he wasn't watching carefully. The grey skinned man then left, disappearing into the forest.

Tim sighed, and went back inside.

 

Toby was gone, which did not surprise him, but he did travel carefully back to his room, avoiding interaction with early risers, like Jack.  
As he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, lamenting the sleep that would not come, he thought of Toby, and what happened that they would have been split apart? Why did he not remember anything but their encounters as children? And why the hell was he remembering this now?

His hand found the sleeping pills next to his bed, lingered for a moment, before popping the cap and taking the recommended dose.

Blissfully, his eyes closed, and stayed closed the rest of the night. 


	4. I'm Changing All Of The Stations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim struggles. So does Toby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god im a horrible person 
> 
> I am so sorry I haven't updated? I mean the comments have made me so happy and I have had some ideas but no time to write? but I promise I have not given up on this fic. I shall populate the Ticcimask fanbase singlehandedly if I have to
> 
> but uuggghhhh rushed chapter im sorry ill be editing these chapters soon I swear
> 
> Jk, thank you for the support and for sticking with this horrible ooc fic!

_"Tim, stop!"_

_Toby giggled, his short legs pounding to escape the taller boy.  Tim laughed and increased his strides, gaining on his friend until he saw his chance.  He lunged, smacking into Toby's legs and rolling onto the ground._

_They ended up in a pile, limbs sprawling and twisting together as they tried to stand.  Finally Tim gave up, and Toby followed, sat on his legs.  They were both laughing breathlessly, having been running off and on for over an hour.  Tim grinned and shoved him off._

_"I won, you know."_

_"By cheating?" Toby gasped, landing on his back in another fit of giggles._

_"Sure, dad says whatever it takes." Tim sighed, finally having captured his breath before it was taken away again.  His mouth hung open slightly, squinting at Toby's hand.  His wrist was bent... Wrong.  "_ _Toby?"_

_The brunette sat up, folded his legs and slouched again. "What?"_

_Tim grimaced, staring as his hand, resting casually on his leg.  Wasn't he in pain? A lot?_ _"Your- your wrist, Tobes."_

_Toby looked down, perplexed, only to look up again shortly. "What? You're freaking me out."_

_Tim gingerly took hold of his wrist, Toby looking at him sideways the entire time.  "It's not supposed to... be at that angle.  You're not in pain?"_

_Toby frowned, squinted at his wrist and poked at it. "No, no pain."_

_TIm, unconvinced, made them take the fifteen journey back to Toby's house- the woods were only a little bit away, but still far enough from the lines of houses._

_As much as Toby tried, Tim had not relaxed or calmed in his plight.  Something was wrong, and concern for his friend- only, friend gnawed at his stomach._ _He knocked on the door, his free hand resting on Toby's shoulder, knowing very well he would wander off if someone didn't open the door soon._ _Toby's mother's face appeared in the door, and her weary features pulled up into a smile.  They were allowed inside- Toby's father must not have been home._

_"How was your- Oh my God," She gasped, her sharp eyes finding the problem before Tim could say a word.  Her hands flew to her sons wrist, carefully turning it over and pushing up his sleeve, checking his face frequently to make sure she wasn't hurting him._

_"He says it doesn't hurt," Tim said quietly, feeling as though it was his fault.  He was two years older, he should have known not to play so hard._

_Worry filled the womans eyes as she ushered Tim out the door, emotions bouncing around on her face. "I'm sorry, Tim, but you should go home.  Toby will be fine." The door was almost slammed, but she had enough forethought to be gentle._

_As Tim dragged his feet down the steps, dreading his home, knowing his mother would be upset he was home so early, he heard Toby crying._

_"It doesn't hurt, mom! I'm fine, right? Am I going to be okay? Tim wasn't lying?"_

_

Tim gasped, eyes flying open, hands clenching the sheets.  Another dream, another damn memory.  He was having them every night, and it was getting harder to ignore this.  He _missed_ Toby, but everytime he gained the courage to talk to him, he was shot down or he backed out.  He was losing sleep.

Sighing, he rolled out of bed- 6 AM.  Early enough to leave in peace.

  
After doing his usual morning routine, he jogged downstairs- 6:15, still early, he can slip out- entered the kitchen, until a small hand reached out and tugged on his shirt.

Tim jumped, cursing himself for being so off his game lately, looked down only to find Sally.  He sighed silently. "Yes?"

She gazed up at him with large hazel eyes, brow furrowed, "I can't find Toby."

Tim huffed, and began walking again, heading to the door. "You'll find him.  I'm sure he's out."

"I found this on your door." She said quietly.  Tim turned to she her holding up a hastily written note. 

Tim snatched it out of her hand. It was headed with his name. "You shouldn't take things addressed to other people."

"But you do."

 

Tim scowled and read the note, ending the conversation. 'Tim, shed, 12PM'.  He stared for a moment.  No signature- couldn't identify the writing, either.  Who the fuck?

He forgot about it and went on with his day, monotonous, uneventful.  When 12 rolled around, he shuffled out the door and toward the back of the mansion.  There was an old, rickety shed kept back there, were old weapons were shoved into and forgotten. 

He pushed the door open, ignoring the rusty shriek and entered the dark room.  It took a few moments for his eyes to accustom to the darkness, and he briefly wondered if he was early, until he saw Toby, in the back of the shed, fussing with an axe.

"What?" Tim asked gruffly, annoyed he had to be there.  He was trying to avoid this kid until he figured out what to do.  Toby jolted, dropped the axe, and turned to look at him.  He looked angry.

 

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell didn't you tell me I'd start remembering too? Goddamn it, then you just ignore me?" Toby seemed to deflate after that, pausing, kicking the axe.

"Why did you leave me?"

 

 


	5. Who Is In Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim realizes the consequences of their situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing for how much I write  
> I end up acomplishing nothing
> 
> Wow  
> Um  
> About to introduce more characters, at least. Trying to slowly develop the relationship between Tobes and Tim, but I think I'm going to fast?? AHHH I don't have any practice with slow burn I'm sorry
> 
> I say this every time, but I think I'm getting traction for this. Let me know what you think so far.

Masky gaped at him for a moment, stricken  speechless- this was odd behavior.  From Toby, who never acted weak, did his very best to exude toughness, even if it meant taking the stupidest option possible.  But now- without his googles, or mouth guard, even a weapon- he looked like a lost child. The bags under his eyes were dark, making his kicked dog eyes even brighter.  He slouched, avoiding Tim's gaze like a anxious kid, but he could tell he saw hurt in his eyes.

 

"You remember?" He starts cleverly, his brain running too slowly to calculate a better response. 

Toby hesitates, brow furrowing, as if he can't quite find the right words. "I- yeah? I mean- it's weird.  I see all these people I don't know- that I feel like I  _should_ know, except you.  The only person in my- visions? Dreams? Is you." he stops again, looking more confused than ever, and Tim's heart aches.  "I'm so fucking confused, and- it's- terrifying.  They're _so_ angry.  They look like zombies- and they hate me.  What did I do? I can't fucking remember and its driving me  _insane."_

 

Tim didn't have an answer.  The sudden emotion Toby spewed was stunning- never had he seen this from the man. He looked like he was wrecked, falling apart.  How long...?

 

"How long have you been had these dreams?"

 

"Its-" Toby leaned against a rotting wall, looking no less distressed. "It's hitting me all times of the day.  Stalking, eating, sleeping, talking- all the fucking time.  Can't predict it, can't prevent it- it's like night terrors  _around the clock._  Slendy nearly benched me on a mission, when it happened in front of 'im."

 

Tim breathed, removed his mask, and ran a hand through his hair, furiously contemplating how to approach this. "What do you see? Who do you s- what do they look like?"

 

Toby began to pace, looking increasingly like a trapped animal. "I don't fucking know, um- two girls? A woman and a teenager, I guess- and a man.  He's always angry.  I see him beating the hell out of the woman, a lot.  The teenager yells at the woman.  They both have injuries, and they get worse through each nightmare.  They're always so angry at me." The last part was breathy, a whisper- an afterthOught.  Tim frowned.

 

"Have you approached Slender about this?"

He asked, and immediately registered he made a mistake at the enraged look that swept over the you gets face.

"Of course not! He'd take me out in a heartbeat.  I'm nothing but a weakness like this. I'm lucky as hell he hasn't noticed."

 

No, he has.  He notices everything, Tim thinks. But he hasnt done anything? Is he letting me handle this? 

"Okay, that's fine- I'm sure we can figure this out." Tim says calmly, gesturing with the universal 'alright, chill out' move.  He couldn't tell if it helped.  As he thought, Toby suddenly rushed him, shoving him against the wall, threateningly close. 

"This is your fault.  I don't know how, but it is- if you hadn't told me we were butt buddies as kids, this wouldn't have happened!" He snaps, very angry very quickly.  Tim frowns, more concerned about Toby than his own wellbeing, and shoved him off.  The younger stumbled backwards, tripping over the junk piled everywhere, landing on his back.  

 

Tim towered over him, his feature set in a glare. "I didn't cause this.  I could rat you out to Slenderman, but I won't.  This is between you and me.  We  _will_ fix this." he says sternly, squating closer to the ground.  Toby didn't move, watching Tim with hardened eyes, as if deciding what emotion to persue. (this kids mood swings were exhausting.) 

 

Toby abruptly grasped his head in a death grip, fingers digging into matted brown hair.  His eyes widened, straining and far to bright.  His body seized, tensing as he let out a long cry of "not aGAAAIIN".  

Tim dropped to his knees and his hands hovered above the trembling boy, scared to touch him- scared to make things worse.    He swallowed as Toby stopped moving altogether, staring into nothing.  Masky gripped his shoulders, trying to provide sine kind of anchor- anything.

 

 

They sat there for a few minutes- what felt like centuries for both of them, vastly different fear terrorizing the two.  As suddenly as it came, Toby breathed loudly, he and Tim exhaling a collective sigh, shakiky, as dim light filled his eyes, that still bore ahead.  He relaxed all at once, collapsing on himself.  Tim quickly backed off.

 

"God  _damnit,"_ Toby hissed, but it was too wet to hold any real heat.  It took him a minute to compose himself.  Tim found the fact he opted to pretend it didn't happen amusing- if not for the situation at hand. 

"They haven't been they bad.  Ever.  We need to fix this  _now."_ Tim nodded, and patted his arm awkwardly.  Even Toby seemed dully unimpressed by the action.

"Alright, just- stay here? Or do whatever- you can be safe when this happens."

Toby still looked unimpressed.

 

Tim nodded, sighed, and promptly left the shed.  Not a star shone in the sky, not a cloud in the sky.  The pure moonlight castes eerie shadows beneath trees, behind walls that set off his paranoia like alarm bells.  He hastily made his way inside the mansion.  

There was one her could ask, but the consequences of requesting anything from him could outweigh the benefits.  He would ask BEN first.  Perhaps, in the vast knowlegde he'd amassed from scouring the web for years, he'd have a vague idea of were to start.

 

If he could resist strangling the boy during his visit.

 


End file.
